


In the Bleak Midwinter

by TheTeaIsAddictive



Series: The Beauty of a Beast [3]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Christmas Carols, F/M, Mildly Suggestive Content, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTeaIsAddictive/pseuds/TheTeaIsAddictive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though he wasn't human, there was something infinitely sweet and kind about the Beast practising Christmas carols at night, for a woman who refused to see him as anything other than non-human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Bleak Midwinter

**In the Bleak Midwinter**

"In the bleak midwinter...frosty wind made moan..."

Tiptoeing along to the library late at night, Belle was surprised to hear the gloomy hymn pouring out of a music room in the Beast's unmistakeable deep bass voice. She paused behind the wooden door, listening to the deep rumbles of the Beast and the slow tickings of a metronome.

It was late at night, and for the second time in two weeks she'd had a nightmare about the awful moment when her mother died. Belle had actually screamed waking up this time, and frightened despite knowing that it was an accident and she was miles away from any guns, she had slipped out her room barefoot, in a white nightie and tangled, unbrushed hair, and began to make her way to the library. It had become her sanctuary, in a way. When she was especially homesick, or the Beast had lost his temper again, or, like tonight, she was upset, Belle increasingly found herself going up there and reading in front of the ever-lit fire until the sun came up. The first few times she came down yawning Mrs. Potts had asked what Belle had been doing that night, but by now the servants accepted it as part of a routine, and even gave her hot chocolate at bedtime the following evening. 

"Earth...was hard as..."

She pricked her ears up, wondering why the Beast was singing a Christmas carol so late at night. 

"IRON!" She could almost see him grinning like a lunatic after recalling the word. Of course, what the Beast called grinning was normally seen as fiercely baring his teeth. Belle knew the difference, though. 

"Water like a stone..." He was back to an acceptable volume now, and Belle smiled quietly to herself. It was sweet, she thought, that he was practising Christmas carols at night when no one could hear him; no one, that is, except Belle now. She distantly remembered the author of the song - someone Rosetti, Belle thought. 

There was a silence where the next line should have been. The metronome continued clicking, and she heard the Beast sigh. 

"I - I just _can't remember_..." she heard him muttering.

He sighed again. 

Gathering her courage, getting ready to flee if he caught her, Belle quietly sang from outside the room. 

"Snow was falling, snow on snow..." Her mezzo-soprano voice sailed into the room like a little bell, and after a moment, the beast joined in. 

"Snow on snow... In the bleak midwinter, long ago."

There was silence. The metronome kept ticking, significantly louder than the grandfather clock Belle remembered inside. She heard the Beast pad slowly towards the door, slightly ajar. She hurried to the other side, closer to the library, suddenly aware that she was in her nightdress and she didn't want the Beast seeing her in it in ways that would normally only apply to _human_ males. 

"Belle, if that's you," the Beast began, "th-"

Just then, the grandfather clock rang out, striking midnight. Belle ran along the corridor, the bell chimes muffling her steps, running away from the monster who became merely a Beast who was now dangerously close to becoming merely a man in her eyes. She ran towards the library, where it was safe, because right now she couldn't (and didn't) want to face the idea that even though he wasn't human, there was something infinitely sweet and kind about the Beast practising Christmas carols at night, for a woman who refused to see him as anything other than non-human. She ran because she was afraid, but not of him. She ran because she was afraid of herself. 

Adam looked out the door. His improved eyesight meant he could see Belle running along the corridor, away from him. Away from reality. 

"Thank you for helping me remember," he whispered.


End file.
